The Couple Next Door(16)

“Thank you,” Rasbach murmurs, making a note in his little book.

“Lots of mothers get postpartum depression, Detective,” Anne says defensively. “It’s quite common.”

Rasbach nods noncommittally. “And the mirror in the bathroom? Can you tell me what happened to it?”

Anne flushes and looks uneasily at the detective. “I did that,” she admits. “When we came home and found Cora missing, I smashed the mirror with my hand.” She holds up her bandaged hand. The hand her mother had bathed and disinfected and bandaged for her. “I was upset.”

Rasbach nods again, makes another note.

According to what the parents had told Rasbach earlier, the last time anyone other than one of them saw the child alive was at about two in the afternoon on the day of the kidnapping, when Anne had grabbed a coffee at the Starbucks on the corner. According to Anne, the baby had been awake in her stroller and smiling and sucking her fingers, and the barista had waved at the little girl.

Rasbach had been to the Starbucks earlier that morning and had spoken to the same barista, who fortunately had already been at work by then. She remembered Anne and the baby in the stroller. But it looks as if no one else will be able to confirm that the baby was alive after 2:00 p.m. on Friday, the day she disappeared.

“What did you do after you stopped at Starbucks yesterday?” Rasbach asks now.

“I came home. Cora was fussy—she’s usually fussy in the afternoon—so I was walking around the house holding her a lot,” Anne says. “I tried to put her down for a nap, but she wouldn’t sleep. So I picked her up again, walked her around the house, the backyard.”

“Then what?”

“I did that until Marco got home.”

“What time was that?” Rasbach asks.

Marco says, “I got home about five. I knocked off a bit early, because it was Friday and we were going out.”

“And then?”

“I took Cora from Anne and sent Anne upstairs for a nap.” Marco leans against the back of the sofa and rubs his hands up and down his thighs. Then he starts to jiggle one of his legs. He is restless.

“Do you have kids, Detective?” Anne asks.

“No.”

“Then you don’t know how exhausting they can be.”

“No.” He shifts his own position in the chair. They are all getting tired. “What time did you go next door to the party?” Rasbach asks.

“About seven,” Marco answers.

“So what did you do between five and seven o’clock?”

“Why are you asking us this?” Anne says sharply. “Isn’t this a waste of time? I thought you were going to help us!”

“I have to know everything that happened. Please just answer as best you can,” Rasbach says calmly.

Marco reaches out and puts a hand on his wife’s thigh, as if to settle her down. He says, “I played with Cora while Anne slept. I fed her some cereal. Anne woke up around six.”

Anne takes a deep breath. “And then we had an argument about going to the party.”

Marco stiffens visibly beside her.

“Why did you argue?” Rasbach asks, looking Anne in the eyes.

“The babysitter canceled,” Anne says. “If she hadn’t canceled, none of this ever would have happened,” she says, as if realizing it for the first time.

This was new. Rasbach hadn’t known there was to be a babysitter. Why are they just telling him this now? “Why didn’t you say this before?”

“Didn’t we?” Anne says, surprised.

“Who was the babysitter?” Rasbach asks.

Marco says, “A girl named Katerina. She’s our regular babysitter. She’s a twelfth-grader. She lives about a block from here.”

“Did you talk to her?”

“What?” Marco says. He doesn’t appear to be paying attention. Perhaps his exhaustion is catching up with him, Rasbach thinks.

“When did she cancel?” Rasbach asks.

“She called about six o’clock. By then it was too late to get another sitter,” Marco says.

“Who spoke to her?” Rasbach is writing a note in his book.

“I did,” Marco says.

“We could have tried to get another sitter,” Anne says bitterly.

“At the time I didn’t think it was necessary. Of course, now . . .” Marco trails off, looking at the floor.

“Can I have her address?” Rasbach asks.

“I’ll get it,” Anne says, and goes to the kitchen to retrieve it. While they wait, Rasbach hears murmured voices coming from the kitchen; Anne’s parents want to know what’s going on.

“What was the argument about, exactly?” Rasbach asks after Anne has returned and handed him a piece of paper with the name and address of the babysitter scribbled on it.

“I didn’t want to leave Cora home by herself,” Anne says bluntly. “I said I’d stay home with her. Cynthia didn’t want us to bring the baby because she fusses a lot. Cynthia wanted an adults-only party—that’s why we called the sitter. But then, once she canceled, Marco thought it would be rude to bring the baby when we’d said we wouldn’t, and I didn’t want to leave her home alone, so we argued about it.”